Raven's Fly
by PandorasDeath
Summary: It's time for thier final goodbye. DracoHarry. Character Death. Very Romeo Juliet
1. My Souls Mate

A/N: This is Harry's suicide note to Draco, a companion piece to Ravens Fly. Dedicated toThe rebellious observer and Jade

You are my souls mate

And that burns much deeper

Than a heart that is oft worn on a sleeve

The broken pieces of which

Can sometimes be mended

And put back together by caring hands

Your words

That once soothed my restless self

Have cast my soul aflame

And now I'm left with the charred ruin,

The shattered pieces still smoldering,

Of a once carefree soul

An empty hollow

Deep within my breast

Where it once lay hidden

Lies barren as desert lands

Not to be replaced by empty promises

The ashes

Still fiery are taken by a murder of crows

To wherever it is that souls go when they die

That is to say if souls do die

If they are meant to die

And if not what then?

Is my soul doomed to lie burning?

Forever afire until the day I perish

The day my broken heart stops beating

Will I one day go to my seared ruin

My charred and blackened soul

To writhe in agony and burn forever

It is my hell

For hell is what it is to be scorned

Cast aside unwanted

By ones soul mate


	2. Ravens fly

A/N: This is my favorite story written entirely from memory, Damn computer viruses. The original version was much better but here you are anyway. I usually don't ask but Please review.

Dedications: This is for Therebelliousobserver for her devilishly dark fic Once Upon A Time There Were Heroes.

The-Boy-Who-Lived.

It was the phrase that haunted his every day, moment, and hour. He hated it, despised it, and wished with all the might of a stubborn child that the phrase would forever be banished from every ones vocabulary. Some people were disgusted with four letter words, well he was disgusted by four little words. They held so much meaning and hid a very dark secret.

Harry Potter wished to be The-Boy-Who-Lived-No-Longer. Perched atop the tallest Quidditch hoop on the pitch, prayed for the courage to end his suffering, prayed for the courage to jump. Looking out on the grounds he thought about what it meant to be the savior of all wizard kind; what it meant that his life would have to include or end in murder. With tears trailing slowly down his face and an almost empty bottle of scotch in his hand he pondered what his life would've been like if Hagrid had never walked into his life that miserable night on his eleventh birthday.

He would likely still be living with the Dursley's, be attending a normal school, wearing clothes that look like bits of elephant skin, and being chased home everyday by bullies from Dudley's gang. This new evaluation of what his life could've been like gave him little comfort. Either way, it did not seem to him, that the fates had allowed for any possibility for happiness. It would seem, rather, that the fates delighted in making him miserable. Giving him a godfather and friend only to rip him brutally away in some freak of an accident that no one really bothered to explain, why couldn't Sirius just walk back through the veil?

Why couldn't his godfather just brush aside the tattered curtains of the veil and continue fighting? But no one bothered to explain silly things like that to him. Just like no one explained why Dumbledore acted like such a prat his fifth year and we all know how brilliantly that turned out. How did they expect him to save the day, save their lives, save the world when they only ever gave him half the facts, half the picture? Harry was angry again, half the picture was the reason why Sirius was dead. Surely if someone had explained to him what Occlumency was actually about he wouldn't have run off to save Sirius in the ministry. Angry tears and a lifetime of regret.

But the brutal events of his life and Sirius's death were not the only thing the-boy-who-lived had to compete with these days. Now he had a broken heart, nay soul, to contend with. This, perhaps, was the real reason that Harry was perched above the Quidditch pitch with all the tears a life of great tragedy would allow, streaming down his face. For Harry was no stranger to great loss of life but a broken heart was something new and, Harry was ashamed to say, more painful than any other loss he had suffered. Harry's mind drifted back to the day it all began….

Harry had returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year a different person than when he had left. He was cruel, mean and disrespectful. He wanted to be bad, wanted to show them all that they had things all wrong, he wasn't their savior, couldn't be. He would show up late to classes, or sometimes not at all. He would pick fights with Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. He blew off his friends and was often caught smoking in the bathrooms or drunk in the dormitories. But for all his misbehavior, all his attempts to prove to them that he was just some snot-nosed kid, not their savior, nothing worked. Lately these days Harry could get in trouble for very little, even McGonagall was seen to have been letting the boy off for skipping classes. With a small tear in her eye she would excuse his behavior as pressure from the upcoming war. This incensed Harry even more.

Then came the day he found a teacher who would discipline him, and most unfairly at that. Snape had returned from one of his long missions for the Order to catch 'the boy who lived' brawling in the corridors with a gang of Slytherins. It was 'Detention, Potter' immediately, and, as only an after thought to his own students, "Nominate someone to take the fall for this and serve detention with Potter." Snape ordered. Eight or nine Slytherins huddled together for a mere moment before pushing a disgruntled looking Draco forward. "Very well, Draco, Potter. Tomorrow in the Trophy Room at seven."

Polishing silver plaques with Draco Harry's mind began to wander when Draco's drawling voice broke into his thoughts. "So Potter, you never answered my question. Which is it the Weasel or the Mudblood?" Draco snickered.

"Why so interested Draco?" Harry sneered back, "What do you care who I'm fucking? What's the matter Pansy a little loose, looking for something a little tighter?" Harry said suggestively just to see the look on Draco's face.

Draco delivered magnificently going a stunning shade of pink and then turned back to his scrubbing and polishing. They were at it till well past midnight before Snape came by to relieve them of their task. Dismissing Draco immediately, he made Harry stay an extra fifteen minutes polishing the ones that Draco did poorly. Seizing the opportunity when Snape left Harry took a swig of scotch from his hip flask and magicked the rest of the plaques done.

Leaving the Trophy Room Harry headed in the direction of his dormitory only to be pulled roughly into a broom closet. Harry found himself face to face with Draco.

"Well Potter it's time to live up to your promises. Come here my Dark Raven" and with that Draco crashed his lips down upon Harry's with bruising force. Draco marveled at how soft Harry's lips were and how silky the messy, raven tresses felt. He tasted alcohol on Harry's lips and it drove him into a frenzy of kisses.

Harry, who at first was surprised when Draco jumped him in the closet, was now responding with much enthusiasm. Draco's long blonde hair swept forward to tickle Harry's nose and Harry sneezed. Draco laughed and Harry laughed, and for once they shared something more than witty barbs. Harry looked up into the icy silver eyes and found a warmth there that, Draco's usual sneer, did not allow for. And Harry felt something inside. Something warm and comforting started to leak into Harry's chest filling up the empty chasm that Sirius's death had left.

Draco looked down into the emeralds of Harry's eyes and for the first time in months saw a sparkle of life chase through them. A ghost of what the boy once was chased across his face for the briefest of moments. And Draco felt something begin to melt, the icy shell that covered his heart began to thaw.

Months later, rolling off Draco in bed Harry felt at peace. Lying curled up into his 'Dragon' (Harry's pet name for Draco, because of his loud snores), Harry felt sated. He snuggles into the nook of Draco's arm and curls one finger around the long blond hair hanging from Draco's head. Afraid to speak and break the spell Harry bites back the question he's been dwelling on all week.

Draco is the first to speak, "I think we should hold back on telling people about us" Draco says tentatively looking at Harry all snuggled up against his chest.

Harry's eyes began to well up with tears, this was the millionth time Draco had tried to get out of telling the school about them. Time was not limitless, the Yule ball was in a week and Harry had planned to bring Draco as his date.

Draco looked at Harry and got out of bed and started getting dressed. "It's just not practical! I mean what would Weasley and Granger think if you should up holding my hand?" Draco tried to explain. "You're Dumbledore's golden boy for fuck's sake, you can't be my Dark Raven for much longer, and you can't have it both ways! The precious side of everything rainbows and puppies needs you. You're their savior remember?"

"Not anymore. In case you haven't noticed I've been getting in fights all over school, skipping classes, mouthing off to teachers. I've fallen quite considerably from grace right now" Harry said sarcastically. "I'm not their stupid savior and I never will be, and anyone who thinks otherwise is in for a very rude awakening!" Harry was yelling with all the unjust fury he felt.

"That doesn't matter. Don't you see? All that will be forgotten, swept under the rug once you've saved the world or die trying!" Draco was yelling now and he wasn't even sure why. "No one will remember the teacher you flipped off, the classes you missed, or the kid you beat up if you're dead or the hero that saved us all. But if I were to show up to the ball with you as your date everyone would remember you as a traitor."

Draco walked over to where Harry was standing and rolled up the sleeve of his robe, "Look at it! Damn you! You won't even look at it! You haven't even acknowledged that it's there" Draco let his sleeve fall back down covering the dark mark. "Face it your good, I'm evil. You will save the world from the dark lord and I will end my days in Azkaban or worse dead."

"It doesn't have to be that way." Harry was pleading with tears in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed Draco's arm forcing him to look him in the eyes, "You could turn spy for our side, like Snape. You could be a hero too."

"It doesn't work that way. I have to go" Draco turned to leave.

Tears were shining in Harry's eyes, "So that's it? I love you." He grabbed Draco turning him around to face him one last time, he searched the icy gray orbs for some sign, "Tell me you don't love me" He yelled at Draco, his voice softened into a hoarse whisper, "Tell me you don't love me!"

Draco was breaking inside, he wanted so much to just kiss the tears away from Harry's eyes. But he couldn't take Harry to the ball, he couldn't even take him outside the walls of this bedroom. Harry deserved to be with someone that could dance with him in the open, not just in darkened rooms.

Looking down into emerald eyes that shone with unshed tears Draco uttered the words that ended them, "I Don't". He walked briskly from the room, wiping his eyes as he left.

Harry could only stare at the place where Draco had been moments before as the words sunk in, Draco didn't love him. Harry's breath started to come in quick shallow breaths, his legs crumbled beneath him and he collapsed onto the thick shag carpeting of the room. One tear fell, and then another and pretty soon tears were chasing down his face falling to the ground and being absorbed into the carpet.

That was over a week ago but the wound was still very raw. Harry had become an empty vacant shell of his former self. Walking through the corridors absorbed in his own misery Harry hadn't the energy nor the inclination to play the part of the 'bad-boy'. Harry's eyes had become deadened save for the few times a day when his green eyes locked with silver, in the corridors or classrooms, when his eyes would silently beg the question of 'why'. Draco's icy orbs never held his eyes for longer than a second, just long enough to answer back 'you know why', an all encompassing and entirely vague answer that seared Harry to the bone.

Harry was much worse for this new arrangement, where as before Draco had offered up to Harry his anger, his loathing, the entire spectrum of his worst emotions, now all he could offer was apathy. Draco could not afford to provoke the Gryffindor in any way for fear of giving in to the passion he still felt. So instead he ignored him, turned his eyes from the hurting pleading eyes of his soulmates' and continued on in his existence as though nothing had happened.

Harry wondered what Draco was doing now, whether or not he had found a new plaything. Harry couldn't stand to think of anyone else touching his Dragon. To his horror his mind provided him with a vivid picture of Draco writhing at the hands of some eager to please first-year.

Harry threw his liquor bottle across the pitch in rage and something much more hurtful, futility. It should be his hands caressing Draco's pale silken skin. His mouth working back and forth on Draco's length bringing him to climax. Harry wiped the angry tears from his eyes and stared out onto the grounds, enraged with the world and it's unwillingness to provide him with happiness. Harry stood up on the Quidditch hoop balancing precariously with his arms outstretched like the Dark Raven he was. He let the question that had been circling his mind all night fill his thoughts once more, he wondered aloud 'If Ravens fly…"

Jerking his hips in climax, emptying his seed into a third years mouth whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember, Draco stared out of his dormitory window into the night. The moon was gloriously full and every star twinkled brilliantly. Draco's gaze lazily perused the grounds as he absentmindedly zipped up his fly. Draco's jaw nearly dropped from his face when his eyes found Harry, his arms outstretched, on the highest Quidditch hoop.

Without so much as a second thought Draco pushed the third-year out of his way and sprang from the room. Taking the stairs three at a time Draco entered the common room and bowled several more people over as he exited through the portrait hole. Running as fast as he could Draco prayed for the first time in his life that he wouldn't be too late. Rushing out into the cool night air Draco saw that Harry was still up on the Quidditch hoop.

Gasping his breath out in sharp, stabbing gulps Draco yelled up at the nearly motionless form of Harry up on the hoop, "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" His chest ached from the running he had done and the cool night air that burned his throat and lungs.

Harry who was momentarily startled by the intrusion regained his composure and responded, "Why testing your theory of course." Harry replied simply his tears only slightly inhibiting his speech

"Theory?" Draco said wildly, completely in the dark about what Harry was referring to, "I don't have a theory, no theory, now please come down from there." Draco was desperate to see Harry's feet on the ground. He cursed himself for not bringing a broomstick with him.

"Now Draco I know you tried very hard to forget everything we had but I can hardly believe you forgot about this." Harry looked down at his Draco desperate to see some kind of recognition on his face. Harry found none and his face began to leak again, "You called me your Dark Raven remember? How could you have forgotten?" Harry shouted down angrily at Draco, swaying uncertainly. Harry grabbed a hold of the side of the ring in order to keep his balance.

"Come on Harry don't do this, not over me!" Draco pleaded.

That one sentence broke something in Harry and put him beyond reasoning, he started yelling out all his fury, "YOU WERE EVERYTHING! Don't you understand that? I had nothing before you came along. No family, no friends, no one who understood. Just this great crushing weight upon my shoulders and a title I never asked for!" Harry was so angry and hurt that Draco didn't understand. "And then, for a brief moment in time, you took that weight from my shoulders and made me feel again. Something other that the choking fear and gaping pain of loss. You made me feel again, have you any idea how much I needed to feel?" Harry took his hand away again and let his racking sobs consume him.

"Please, Harry, I didn't know. Please don't do this." Draco's eyes were misting over with desperate tears as he felt the situation slipping beyond his control. He stared into Harry's eyes for an eternity, "I won't let you do this"

Harry's eyes met Draco's with a pleading, tragic look on his face and in a voice that was barely more than a whisper he replied, "Why? Would you catch me if I fall?" With that he turned from Draco and leapt into the air like the Dark Raven he was and for the briefest moment in time Harry felt free, and he thought to himself if Raven's fly than why can't I?

They found Draco the next day, covered in the morning dew, still cradling the cold and lifeless body of his lover. Rocking back and forth, eyes open and staring at nothing, the well of tears having long ago dried up, they heard him repeating two words over and over again to himself.

"Always, love…Always, love…"

A/N:If you're looking for a little more with this story check out My Souls Mate. It's kinda Harry's suicide note to Draco. In actuality something I wrote for **my** soulmate.


End file.
